


open your eyes, i'll keep mine closed

by orphan_account



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: (a slight crisis), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Quickies, Sexuality Crisis, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 21:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14839257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Taekwoon meets Wonshik's eyes across the space between them. Searches for the right words to reassure, even as a quieter version of the same unease curls deep in his stomach. He skims his fingertips over smooth ivory plastic, feels his lips tighten and turn down at the corners. He sighs and sucks one lip into his mouth, lets it go. Takes a deep breath and exhales heavily.Wonshik gives him a wry smile, just a twist of his mouth, and shrugs one shoulder."We've done our best," Taekwoon finally manages, an exact reiteration of something Hakyeon reminds them uncomfortably often. "We've done all we can do. For what we can do, it's perfect."





	open your eyes, i'll keep mine closed

**Author's Note:**

> this turned out a lot sadder than i thought it was going to, even when i set out to write sad. maybe i'll make a happier sequel or something.

Taekwoon's fingers ghost over the keys of the keyboard, feeling out chords he'd only just finished playing. "Wonshik-ah," he murmurs, and Wonshik stops his restless pacing. Tension tightens his body, even as he goes still.

Three strides forward. Turn. Three strides back. Wonshik has been constantly moving, muttering a mile a minute before falling silent, anxiety-ridden comments about LR, the song, the performance. Taekwoon has been staring down at his own hands, then up at the sheet music before him, then tracking Wonshik's movement, then starting the cycle all over again.

Taekwoon meets Wonshik's eyes across the space between them. Searches for the right words to reassure, even as a quieter version of the same unease curls deep in his stomach. He skims his fingertips over smooth ivory plastic, feels his lips tighten and turn down at the corners. He sighs and sucks one lip into his mouth, lets it go. Takes a deep breath and exhales heavily.

Wonshik gives him a wry smile, just a twist of his mouth, and shrugs one shoulder.

"We've done our best," Taekwoon finally manages, an exact reiteration of something Hakyeon reminds them uncomfortably often. "We've done all we can do. For what we can do, it's perfect."  
  
Sharp laugh from Wonshik, who obviously recognizes the platitude Hakyeon has stolen from some _de rigueur_ self-help book. He closes the space between himself and Taekwoon in a short burst of movement, stopping on the other side of Taekwoon's propped-up sheet music. Taekwoon reaches around the keyboard's attached music stand and grabs Wonshik's hand before Wonshik can turn on his heel and start his jerky pacing again.

Wonshik's fingers flex against Taekwoon's palm before sliding between Taekwoon's, a long-practiced gesture. Taekwoon squeezes Wonshik's hand and stands, toeing his stool to the side so he can step forward and lean in, placing himself closer to Wonshik, as close as they can be with the keyboard between them. Wonshik's hand clings to his, a silent détente stretching out between strain and stillness. 

"We've done our best," Taekwoon murmurs again, eyes dropping, fixing themselves somewhere in the vicinity of Wonshik's collarbones. Wonshik steps closer, his hips bumping the keyboard, making it wobble on its collapsible legs. His breath shudders out against Taekwoon's cheekbone.

Taekwoon lifts his free hand, follows it with his gaze as he places it lightly at Wonshik's jawline, brushing the pad of his thumb over the tightness at the corner of Wonshik's eye. "We've done our best," he sighs one last time, and chases the words over the last of the distance between them, until his lips brush Wonshik's.

A whisper. A hint, the bare suggestion of a kiss, and Wonshik's breath hitches, startled. Taekwoon's cheeks heat and he opens the hand he has in Wonshik's, making to pull away. "No," Wonshik mutters, confused, tightening the grasp he has on Taekwoon and sliding his free hand around Taekwoon's shoulder to settle at the nape of his neck. "Come back," Wonshik pleads low and urgent, and Taekwoon takes another deep breath and sways forward, presses their lips together.

The tension in the room shifts to something electric, charged, Wonshik's hand at his neck pulling Taekwoon forward so he has to curve himself around the piano, his other hand shaking free to drop at Taekwoon's waist, gripping there, harsh and grounding. Taekwoon's hands brace Wonshik's face as Wonshik urges him deeper into the kiss, Taekwoon's heart skidding to a halt and starting back up at an unsteady throb as Wonshik's teeth and tongue graze his lips, questioning, then demanding.

The kiss breaks and they gasp for breath. Taekwoon staggers around to the other side of the piano, Wonshik's arm banding around the small of his back and hauling him in for another impatient kiss. A soft, needy sound shivers free of Taekwoon's throat and his short nails rake across skin where Wonshik's neck and shoulder meet, scrabbling for purchase as Wonshik's lips move to Taekwoon's high cheekbone, his jaw, teeth worrying at his neck.

Clumsy with desire, Taekwoon drags Wonshik to the door of their shared studio, flipping the lock and pressing his back to the wood, pulling Wonshik to him with hands fisted in the front of Wonshik's t-shirt. Wonshik's lips descend roughly on Taekwoon's, hunger edged with something darker, ebbing into artless desire as Taekwoon's hands slide down Wonshik's sides, around, up his back. He clings to Wonshik, who shoves a thigh between Taekwoon's legs and presses _up_ , deliciously _up_ , Taekwoon's lips ripping free of Wonshik's to moan breathily into his ear.

Not to be outdone, Taekwoon pushes the heel of one hand down Wonshik's length where it's hard against Taekwoon's hip. Wonshik falters, disconcerted, before groaning loudly and doubling down, pressing brief kisses to Taekwoon's lips on every panting inhale as he works his jeans and underwear down his hips. 

Wonshik's lips find a spot behind Taekwoon's jaw that makes him whimper, high-pitched and keening, and his hands lift Taekwoon's waist away from the door, their bodies meeting with every heaving breath. His fingers slide under Taekwoon's waistband and there's a moment where his hands just rest warm against the flesh of Taekwoon's ass, cupping it gently before his fingertips dig in, drawing a sharp cry from Taekwoon as his hips hitch toward Wonshik's clothed abs.

Taekwoon works testily at his own flies and moans in relief when he manages to get his pants open, shifting his weight until he can push them down his legs. And then Wonshik presses him against the door again, and their hips slot together and Taekwoon moans long, drawn-out against Wonshik's lips.

"Yes?" Wonshik whispers, rolling his hips, grinding their naked cocks together just the right side of controlled, and Taekwoon grabs at the small of Wonshik's back, his ass, breathing out, "Yes, yes, yes," in reply as they rut artlessly against one another. Their lips slip together in a crude imitation of their hips, and Wonshik's voice rumbles in his chest, quiet grunts and groans mingling with Taekwoon's feathery cries.

When Wonshik ups the ante, taking their leaking cocks in hand so they slide together with a newer, more delicious friction, Taekwoon arches off the door and into Wonshik's touch, his brow falling to Wonshik's shoulder, color high in his cheeks as he watches Wonshik work them both over. He licks his palm, slots his own fingers between Wonshik’s—they're in this together, he tries to say without words, with just the tight, wet curl of his hand, and Wonshik's nose nudges Taekwoon's cheek until they're kissing again, sweeter and more earnest with the urgency of release.

It builds in waves, subsuming Taekwoon until he's clutching at Wonshik's hip and spilling over their joined hands, bowing forward before falling back against the door with a dull thud from the effort of staying quiet. He feels Wonshik move more quickly, but Taekwoon's eyes are squeezed shut, blood rushing in his ears as he rides it out.

When Wonshik comes, he presses his entire body against Taekwoon's, as close as he can get with their clothes between them. His face is buried in Taekwoon's hair, his breath heavy, and he all but writhes against Taekwoon, spreading the mess of their release between their hips.  
  
Taekwoon forces his eyes halfway open, rests his cheek against Wonshik's as they catch their breath. A new silence stretches out over the room, anxious tension replaced with exhausted relief. Taekwoon smooths his clean fingertips over the small of Wonshik's back in the same deliberate motion he'd used on the keys of his piano.

Wonshik stirs, lifting his head to press his brow to Taekwoon's. Their eyes meet, lips brushing. "What," Wonshik begins to ask, and Taekwoon's gaze drops as his heart pounds painfully.

"I don't know," he murmurs. His thoughts start skittering all over the place, to Hakyeon, to LR, to the bruises he fears will blossom damningly on his pale skin. "I don't know," he repeats, dropping a light kiss at the corner of Wonshik's mouth.

The air goes still between them for a long moment.

"Okay," Wonshik responds gently. "Okay."

Wonshik pulls away, rustling in a desk drawer until he retrieves the plastic bag of wet wipes they've liberated from restaurant takeout bags, ripping a couple open and cleaning himself up, putting his clothing to rights before he returns to Taekwoon, fresh wipe in hand. Taekwoon swipes at the mess between his legs, grimacing at the cool stickiness. He manages to wrangle his jeans back up with his free hand, tossing the wet wipe into the little desk trashcan with a quiet noise of disgust.

When he turns around, Wonshik isn't facing him. He's standing rigid, right where he was before Taekwoon slipped away, fingers carving roughly back through his hair.

Say something, Taekwoon commands himself. Not what Hakyeon would say. What Taekwoon would say.

"Wonshik-ah," he murmurs, reaching out to touch Wonshik's elbow. He plants himself in front of Wonshik and spreads his hands out on Wonshik's chest, smoothing them up to Wonshik's shoulders. Wonshik's hands drop to his sides and Taekwoon takes it as permission to draw Wonshik closer, pressing his face into Wonshik's neck. "It'll be alright, Wonshik-ah," Taekwoon says, wavering at first. "Everything will be fine."

The second time, his voice doesn't shake.

**Author's Note:**

> leave me a comment to let me know what you thought!


End file.
